


Hook, Line, and Sinker.

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-23
Updated: 2005-07-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley's prepared for everything, except possibly this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hook...

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Wes was always prepared. Wes was always ready.

Angel loved that about him.

Loved that no matter when, he could shove Wesley’s pants down, ram his cock up his ass, and it would feel like heaven.

Loved that when everyone had been taken care of after a grueling fight, he could drag Wes into an alley, grab Wes’s fly and there would a monster hard-on just waiting for his hand. _Made_ for his hand.

There was always slick inside of Wes, his muscles heavy and trembling. There was always a tiny shiver every time that hard flesh hit the coolness of his palm. There was always a restrained gasp right before he closed his eyes. 

His boy never waited to get off. Wes’ lust was never slaked and neither was his. _His_ boy never got the chance to feel unwanted. 

It was going to take Angelus some getting used to. Knowing that Wes was all his and had never given it up for Angel like this. He got to use Angel’s pretty boy in ways Angel never dreamed he could have. And, oh, could he ever have. The orgasms he pulled out of that boy were unlike any of the thousands he had ripped from all those hopeless bodies, and all he had to do was say, “I love you, Wes.”


	2. Line...

The words flow like silk across his ears muddling his brain, making him think they’re full of the love and caring they’re meant to be imbued with. Angel’s voice whispers and murmurs nonsense that rubs against his skin and licks across his heart the way his hands would if he were here. That Wes is certain of.

What he is not so certain of is why Angelus chose to keep him. He knows why Angelus tries to use words to cuddle and coddle him with. His Achilles heel. As if Angelus wouldn’t go straight for the jugular. But this was his jugular, so it made sense in its own entirely fucked up way. Still, he could easily dispense with the pleasantries and still get his way. There were always other ways to get willing participants. He still looked like Angel, after all; a fact that was not lost on Wes. Not at all, as far as his body was concerned. It was his mind he was more troubled by. Angelus didn’t even have to try to make him be his supplicant. It was grotesque how easily his machinations had worked. But he had no way to deny how much he had ached to hear Angel like this, to feel him so close, to suck up all those words more thoroughly than he was sucking on the head of Angelus’ cock.

He can’t feel the way Angelus pushes relentlessly against his skull, making him almost choke on the length in his mouth. He can’t feel how hard his thrusts are against his lips, or how roughly his nails scrape along his neck. All he can feel is Angel wanting him to take his erection further into the heat of his mouth. Or how much Angel is aching to come because of Wes’s wet tongue around him. And most of all, how little control Wes is leaving him, because he knows Angel would never hurt him, and if the scratches mean anything, it’s that Angel wants him so badly that he can’t control himself. 

Because if it weren’t for all those little words and caresses of meaning that come in the trappings of Angel’s voice, he might come to his senses, might crawl out of the quicksand that is his brain and realize that he is making love to a monster. A monster that is only fucking him. A monster that doesn’t love him any more than Angel does. Angelus just knows how to take what Wesley is helpless not to offer.


	3. Sinker

He hadn’t tasted him yet. It felt like he might drown if he did. He’d drink him dry so fast, and then there would be no more. No more delicious suck jobs, no more tight little ass to shove his prick into, no more decadent smell of arousal _without_ fear. Not a smell he was used to smelling...and liking.

Wes wasn’t afraid of him. Because he wasn’t afraid of Angel. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t try to scare Wes, didn’t try to torture him, but the boy just lapped it up. He _wanted_ Angel to hurt him. Felt like he deserved it for some fucked up human sense of responsibility. Oh no, it wasn’t that Angelus didn’t try...he just didn’t like having to _try_. Why make all the effort when sweet, sweet Wes did it all himself? He was the one who asked ‘Angel’ to fuck him harder. He was the one who let ‘Angel’ get so rough that he bled internally, and still was up for more later. He was the one who _asked_ ‘Angel’ to bite him. 

That’s why Angelus hadn’t bitten him. He hadn’t sunk his fangs into that succulent taste because he liked having Wes for himself. He liked knowing that he was getting the real Wesley. The one Angel had never and would never have. The one that was making Angel sob like a tiny baby inside. The one that made Angel feel regret more keenly than any past sin of Angelus’. It was almost more fun to torture Angel than it was to watch Wes punish himself. Until this morning.

Angelus had just pulled out of the tight heat of Wesley’s ass from fucking him while he slept and had heard a tiny mumble. 

“What was that, Wes, my boy?”

“Thank you, Angelus.”

_Angelus._

Wes wasn’t pretending anymore. He was getting lucid. No more submissive Wes. No more games. Well, they had a good run. If biting didn’t prove the catalyst to getting staked, well then he would be the luckiest damn vampire that ever scourged Europe. If it did, well he’d just drain him that would be that. There were other souls to torture. Not as sweet as Wesley’s but Angel would still writhe.

“Would you like dessert, Wes?” Angelus drug a sharp nail down Wesley’s side to his hip and dug it in forcefully.

“Oh,” Wes groaned and thrust his hips against the piercing pain, “Yes, Angelus. Please. _Bite_ me, you prick.”

_Ahh, those cute pet names._ Angelus sunk his teeth into Wesley’s neck, no further invitation necessary. 

Wesley was still at first and was twitching and writhing a little, like he was about to full on struggle, but then Wesley arched. Not just his neck, but his back, and then his hips. _Nothing, turns this boy off._ That made Angelus suck harder. What really got him was when Wes, instead of reaching for his own erection, fumbled behind him for Angelus’. _Good boy._ If he’d said it out loud, Wes would have probably come right then. 

As it was, his grip on Angelus’ cock was tight and quick. Wes’ breath was getting shallow, but his fist kept pumping while his own hips made tight little thrusts uncontrollably into the air. 

Angelus almost didn’t catch himself in time. Wes tasted too good. So much like pain and denial. Maybe this time he would get Wes off too, now that they had reached an...agreement.


End file.
